


Dead Man Crawling

by Miss_Forgettable



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (I can't believe that's actually a tag), Angst, Cancer, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Enemies, Harry Styles Has Cancer, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lovers To Enemies, Lung Cancer, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Platonic Cuddling, Suicide, Terminal Illnesses, There's A Tag For That, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Where We Are Tour, but definitely reads like it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Forgettable/pseuds/Miss_Forgettable
Summary: Harry was just twenty, and in the middle of a world tour, when everything came crashing down.Between his friendship with Louis being in tatters and the beast growing inside him, Harry had already lost everything.They'd known it was likely to happen to one of them eventually, their bad habits hardly being a preventative measure, but they'd never seen it coming at twenty.They'd never imagined it'd be Harry.
Relationships: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan & Zayn Malik & Liam Payne & Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Dead Man Crawling

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is actually a chapter from a larger work of mine (Start It All Over Again) but I was so exhausted at finally finishing this monster of a chapter that I wanted to upload it as a one-shot too.  
> For the most part, it should be fine reading it as a standalone, but there may be one or two moments that are referencing other parts of the longer fic. Also, I guarantee you this reads far sadder as a standalone chapter than it does in the fic ^-^.  
> This was written while listening to Youngblood by 5SOS so that's where I got the title.  
> Final Note - Louis in this is not... nice. I love Louis, and in no way see him in the way he's depicted here, but it's important to note that Louis (the character) is acting on emotion and not malice. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I in no way believe that this work is in any way reflective of any of the real people present, and would never wish this to be shown to anyone featured. This is a work of pure fiction and I respect all featured individuals as human beings.

_I_ t was like the entire hotel knew before he’d received the first phone call. No, not the staff; the hotel itself. From the moment he stepped back into the building, paranoia had been tingling under his skin like something was watching him, like the walls had eyes.

From the first call with the medical team, he’d been overly cautious over who could hear him.

Because this was Harry’s news to share.

Too many leaks and invasions of privacy had happened over the last four years, but this was his business and his alone, regardless of what The Daily Mail might say.

Harry kept his head down as staff passed him; he couldn’t shake the feeling that they somehow knew. They knew - even though it was nearly impossible, even though it went beyond reasonable logic - he felt like they knew.

Halting outside his own hotel room door, he fiddled with the card key for a moment, before entering somberly and throwing his coat down on the bed. The room felt too empty. It wasn’t the same as it’d been in the early days when they’d all shared rooms on tour. Now, they were all young men, no longer teenage boys, with stricter desires for privacy. For some reason, Harry hated it. He’d enjoyed sharing (most of the time), even if Liam snored, and Niall continued to babble in his sleep. Hell, even Zayn hadn’t minded sharing with him, seemed to enjoy it, even, so he can’t have been challenging to share with. Everything just… Sucked.

Without thinking too much of it, and just feeling an overwhelming need not to be alone, he pushed open the dividing door between his room and Liam’s. Liam wasn’t even there.

But Louis was.

Louis; the boy he’d once called his best friend, his first flatmate, his first real love…

And the person he hadn’t been alone with in months.

He froze as they made eye contact, watching, almost petrified, as the twenty-two-year-old snubbed out his cigarette and tossed it into the ashtray before walking away from the open window.

Louis gestured to the leather chair opposite the bed, and Harry finally walked into the room, breathing shallow under the older man’s steely gaze.

“I’m guessing you got your results.” Louis’ blunt words broke the silence. Harry couldn’t help but wince; Louis hadn’t exactly been the first person he’d wanted to tell.

He simply nodded, hardly looking him in the eye. Louis was still looking at him expectantly.

“And?” Louis prompted him.

“Worse than we thought.”

It was almost laughable, but Louis’ expression was unreadable. The conflict of emotions on his face was obvious; Harry would have found it funny if it hadn’t been for the subject matter.

Regardless of how he tried to deny it, the beast had caught him, far younger than seemed fair. They’d known it’d likely happen to one of them someday (Zayn and Louis’ smoking habits hardly being a preventative measure), but they’d always imagined it to be decades off. They’d never seen it coming at twenty.

They’d never imagined it’d be Harry.

Louis’ expression was stuck somewhere between distress and a glare. Harry thought it to be quite ironic; both the distress, because where was the concern for Harry’s wellbeing when he was trampling over his heart, and the glare, because it was hardly like he had a choice.

You couldn’t press an off-switch on cancer.

“That’s a bit shit, innit,” Louis said finally, and Harry held back his laugh; “bit shit” was an understatement.

He sighed, changing the subject, “Where’s Liam?”

Louis shrugged.

“Dunno, out somewhere.” His body language was uninterested.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“So, Liam’s somewhere, and you’re just in here because?”

“Okay, fine! I was in ‘ere, then Eleanor called me, and Payno buggered off somewhere,” Louis snapped at him. “Anything else you need to know while you’re at it?”

From the mention of Eleanor’s name, Louis had targeted a steeled gaze across at him, looking Harry directly in the eyes as if to challenge him.

It stung, Harry wasn’t going to lie, being kicked while he was already down. It wasn’t that Harry had a problem with Eleanor herself, it was purely the way that Louis propped her up like some kind of shield.

A shield to protect him from Harry, and everything Harry entailed.

Harry refrained from a retort, but just barely managed to prevent a glare and settled for a frown.

Seemingly, Louis had been waiting for Harry to react, almost like a cue, because he visually gritted his teeth, and dramatically reached for one of Liam’s pillows to throw at Harry.

Catching it before impact, Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Ever one for the theatrics, Harry should’ve seen Louis’ antagonism coming. He suppressed a groan and walked the pillow back to its rightful place. He knew it would only make the older man more enraged, but he was done trying to placate him. If Louis wanted to argue, he’d let him at it.

“What’s your problem, Harry?” the Yorkshireman finally snapped.

With another eye roll, Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked at his former best friend.

“Problem?” he laughed. “You think I’m the one with a problem? Tell me, Louis, what exactly is my problem?”

Louis looked ready to throw something again.

“Why do you have a problem with Eleanor? She’s my girlfriend, whether you like it or not,” he hissed.

“I don’t have a problem with that; what’s this really about?”

“I love her, Harry!”

Harry’s eyes might have become stuck if he had to roll them again.

“Never said you didn’t,” he sighed. “Now, is this going anywhere?”

It seemed to shut Louis up for a second, as it became clear that he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Well, as long as you understand that…” Louis trailed off.

“Louis,” he gritted. “Stop. You’ve been over this a million times; do you really want to fight my last months away?”

“You’re not dying, Harold.” Louis’ voice was forceful but quiet.

Harry let out an exhausted laugh.

“Be nice if you could tell my lungs that.”

It seemed typical that Louis would be more in denial than he was. Louis was a talker. He’d talk out his own problems no matter how serious they were. But when it came to other people, he shut down. Harry liked to think that it proved that some part of Louis still cared about him, that their problems were somehow fixable. As if he hadn’t fucked over everything.

“You would do that, wouldn’t y’.” Louis suddenly returned to his angered state. “You’d die just to spite me!”

Now, Harry was actually confused. He stood up and walked over to grab Louis’ hands.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Louis snatched his hands away with a glower (and… was that a growl?).

“Get off me, Styles! You’re so bloody obsessed, and now you can’t have what you want, you’re gonna make us pay for it.”

More confused than ever, Harry couldn’t help but whisper, “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Before he had a chance to ask, Louis was off, throwing the door open and slamming it in Harry’s face.

He had already taken off down the corridor and was hurtling down the stairwell before Harry even managed to prise the door open.

“Louis!” he shouted, trying to catch up but falling further and further behind with every heavy door that closed on him.

Louis didn’t listen, instead just running faster as he made it to the backdoor of the building.

Harry watched as he furnished a key from his jeans and pressed a button on the fob. Realising what was about to happen, he picked up the pace, ignoring the wobble of his weak knees to halt Louis in his tracks. He came to a stop beside the van just as the other man had begun to ignite the engine.

Throwing open the passenger door, he climbed in and buckled up, ignoring the annoyed look sent his way. For a moment, Harry thought he was about to be kicked out, but Louis merely groaned as he forced the gearstick into position and began to speed away from the hotel.

Harry was certain that Louis couldn’t legally drive in mainland Europe, but it didn’t seem to stop him. Despite being hundreds of miles away from home, and not knowing a single road, Louis was going somewhere. He hadn’t wanted, nor asked Harry to tag along, but somehow Harry’d found himself strapped in a metal box, travelling very fast, with someone who looked at him with contempt. Something told Harry that “somewhere” was actually “anywhere”, and that “anywhere” meant “anywhere except the hotel”.

Anywhere to escape Harry.

Except, he’d accepted that Harry had forced his way into the van with him… Louis confused him.

“Where are you even trying to go?” he asked the frowning man in the driver’s seat.

Louis’ grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Who cares?” he muttered. “Didn’t ask y’ to come, did I?”

“You think I’d let you drive off into the night alone?”

“Maybe you should.”

The minivan fell silent again. It’d been like this for months. It was like a wall had closed around his former best friend, and he was only just tall enough to see over the top. Not tall enough to reach out, but tall enough to see the life sapped from Louis’ blue eyes. Harry just wasn’t enough, not anymore. He couldn’t help but stare sadly at the eyes in question, obviousness be damned. Eyes once filled with liveliness and joy had turned into nothing more than a shell that once housed so much. A direct reflection of Louis, who himself was a mere fraction of the man Harry knew, the man he fell in love with.

Harry had to look away; it was so little but still too much.

It wasn’t long before they’d left the city altogether and were hurtling down an open road.

If Harry had even a semblance of self-preservation left, he probably wouldn’t have got in a car with an obviously emotional driver. Sadly, he really didn’t have any sense of danger anymore, so there he was, rushing down a road somewhere in Europe, with the man who’d torn him to pieces just months earlier.

“Stop staring.”

Upon being caught, Harry inhaled a sharp breath, triggering a coughing fit. They had become common since he became ill, but the look on Louis’ face was always the same.

Annoyance, as if Harry had some kind of choice.

“Y’ would, wouldn’t y’, just t’ spite me,” he heard the Yorkshireman mutter.

Harry turned to look out of the window instead, trying to hold back the spluttering in his throat but failing.

“What do you mean?” he asked, taking deep breaths to counteract the pain.

“Just because I’m happy you have to walk all over it.”

Harry furrowed his brow.

“Huh? What the hell am I doing that affects you?”

“Just ‘cause I’m happy, doesn’t mean you should be selfish.”

“For the last time, Louis,” Harry tried again. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Louis’ driving was beginning to become more and more erratic, bumping in and out of potholes and sliding on the torrent of rainfall tearing down outside the vehicle.

“I love Eleanor, Harry, we’re happy; you don’t get to punish me – you don’t get to die – just ‘cause things ain’t the way you wanted them to be.”

The words resonated around in his skull; this whole thing was about Eleanor?

“I can’t choose to have cancer,” Harry responded bluntly.

Louis flicked the windscreen wipers onto the fastest setting with an unnecessary amount of force.

“But you chose not to treat it.”

Harry turned to look at Louis properly again.

“What’s that got to do with your girlfriend?” he scoffed, trying not to raise his voice needlessly.

“What doesn’t it have to do with her? The- IT happened, and within a week, you were dying!” Louis snapped back.

The tension in the car was swiftly building, and Harry knew Louis (knew them both) far too well. It was only going to be a matter of time before one of them broke and released their fury. Arguments were rare but present between the two of them, much the same as any friendship, but it’d happened enough that knew what made the other tick. Normally, they’d avoid conflict at all costs, but with the subject nose-diving into forbidden territory, Harry had the increasing feeling that the one to snap first would be him.

“You think I’m…” Harry trailed off, his resolve finally shattering as he realised what Louis was implying. “YOU THINK I’M DYING TO SPITE YOU? BECAUSE OF- I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!”

“WHY AREN’T YOU TREATIN’ IT, THEN?”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T, LOU; IT’S TOO FAR GONE!”

If Harry had been in a calmer state, he’d have noticed that they were both crying. Somewhere in amongst the emotions, the tears caused part of him to rejoice, glad to imagine that Louis still cared. Glad to imagine that buried deep within there was some semblance of hope for their tarnished friendship. Relieved to see that they were both hurting, just in different ways.

One of them had a death wish, and the other had it already sentenced.

“Then why aren’t you fighting?” Louis was no longer shouting, but there remained a heavy bitterness laced in his tone.

Harry shot him a glance through blurry eyes.

Louis’ hand reached over and tugged on Harry’s hair, almost painfully.

“Why have you still got these stupid locks?”

Harry could hear the venom in Louis’ voice as he spat the words out. His scalp was stinging a bit, becoming sore from where the hand was still pulling. He couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped.

“Because there’s no use,” he started. “It’d just be buying time.”

Louis’ next words came quieter, “Isn’t time a good thing?”

“Not for me…”

The van was silent again. Harry could finally see the glistening of tears in Louis’ eyes as he focused back on the road. His driving had become less erratic, much to Harry’s silent relief. He sighed deeply and looked back out of the window. Only occasional street lamps lit the road, and even the infrequent road signs proved near-useless due to the language barrier. Every sign, every tree, every street lamp appearing copies of each other, indistinguishable from the stretch of road behind them.

For a split second, something recognisable flashed across his vision on the roadside.

He blinked.

He tried to lean and look out the rear windscreen, but it had long since passed.

It would have been impossible anyway, impossible for it to have been who he thought it was; he must have been delirious. Perhaps it was just a figment of his imagination.

“You’ve already started lip-syncing, haven’t y’.”

“Hmm?” Harry just barely registered that Louis was speaking again. “Oh, yeah.”

Louis scoffed.

“How has no one noticed yet?”

“We’re using raw recordings… I can’t exactly belt anymore.”

It had saddened him greatly to not be allowed, or even able, to sing live any longer. Singing had been the one thing that’d been with him through everything; through X Factor, his journeys with the boys… Everything that’d happened with Louis. But he’d lost singing too, and he was never going to recover it.

They hadn’t gone public with his condition, trying to reach the end of the tour before he hung up the metaphorical towel. Laughable, really, as Harry wasn’t even sure he was going to survive that long. His prognosis was, quite frankly, shit. Caught too late, and in one of the most untreatable parts of the body. Faced with a choice, between chemo, hair loss, and slowly disintegrating from the inside out, or just letting it happen, the decision had been simple; a choice between surgery (possibly a transplant) and remaining himself.

Harry chose himself.

Maybe, had his chances been better, he would’ve taken it, but he was staring death in the eyes. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

“It’s sickening,” came Louis’ confession. “Watchin’ them squeal as you shove a goddamn banana in your gob, no idea it’s all a performance.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he was actually supposed to hear that revelation.

“Ain’t got much of a choice, Lou,” he mumbled, breathing through yet another coughing fit.

Louis merely grunted in response.

“Louis,” he tried, a sudden jolt of hope surfacing. “I know things haven’t been great between us, but I want things to go back to the way they were. I know we made some mistakes, but, if I’ve got a few months left, I want you to be there.”

“We made mistakes?” Louis’ chuckle was almost mocking. “You made mistakes, Harry.”

Harry frowned.

“Blame me all you want, Lou, but you were there too.”

“I had a girlfriend!” Louis was back to shouting again. “I have a girlfriend!”

The hope that’d begun surfacing had already sunk again, and Harry felt the waterworks returning to his eyes.

“Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t we just put it behind us?” he begged. Harry wasn’t above begging, especially not for Louis. Really, it was his biggest weakness, the lengths to which he would go to try and salvage what remained of a broken friendship. He’d always be sure that Louis would be worth it, but even that certainty was now laughing in his face.

“You should’ve thought about that before you kissed me,” came the snappy reply, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

“AND YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE KISSED ME BACK!”

Harry’s shout resonated around the van, along with the cough that followed pathetically.

The older man’s expression was guarded, utterly devoid of anything that Harry would call distinguishably Louis. Harry watched helplessly as Louis indicated and pulled over on the roadside.

He didn’t turn on his hazards, nor switch off the engine.

“Get out,” came the growl from the driver’s seat.

Harry’s mouth fell open, gobsmacked.

“You have your phone; get out.”

He numbly unplugged his seatbelt and climbed out of the passenger door. Turning back to look Louis in the eye, he stared in disbelief. This wasn’t anything like the Louis he knew, nothing like the person he’d have split his soul in half for.

“What now?” Harry blurted. “You’re just gonna drive off ‘cause what I said was true?”

“Fuck off, Harry.”

“I’m dying; are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Louis’ face was like thunder.

“You’re dying ‘cause you want to!” he snapped, before reaching up to pull at his own hair.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh humourlessly, earning a furious glare.

“I’m dying, Louis,” he repeated, bringing a hand to cover his chest and running his palm down it. “And you’re going to miss it because apparently, my worst crime was loving you.”

All he received in response was two fingers, and then he was gone. Before he could even register the feeling of rain in his hair, Louis had thrown the van into gear and was merely a speck of tail lights in the distance.

Harry just watched him go.

It wasn’t long after that he noticed he was crying again. Not violently, but the silent trickle of tears down his cheekbones was pitiful enough to continue regardless. He wasn’t even sad, not at all, just disappointed. The whole night had been confirmation for everything he didn’t want to think about.

A sudden pang wrestled its way through his chest and the fact he’d wanted to avoid acknowledging nestled its way in. Somehow, he already knew.

That was the last thing he’d ever say to Louis.

Fumbling for his phone to call someone, he kicked angrily at the roadsign he couldn’t even read, cursing other languages for existing, cursing his body, cursing Louis.

The rings went through… No one answered.

He let out a huff, suddenly realising just exactly where his night had taken him. There he was, on a roadside, with no way of getting back.

He plonked his bum down on the grass and watched the passing headlights. He was so tired. That was something he’d noticed, being ill, he was so bloody tired. With a yawn, he put his head in his hands and tried to stay awake, dragging a nail across a cheek every time he felt his mind begin to drift away.

Should he try to call the team again? Probably. But what would he even say? That he highjacked a van with his feuding bandmate and got abandoned on the side of the road? Really, maybe he was just crazy. He’d have to be pretty crazy to still be in love with his former housemate, in spite of everything he’d put him through.

It’d happened so quickly. Harry’d never really tried to hide his feelings before, it’d just never been an appropriate time to talk about it. Somehow, he’d always got the impression that Louis just… Knew. That he was just nice enough not to mention it, or nice enough to not want to have to let him down gently. But then, he’d do something that gave Harry hope. The small looks, the touches, the nights snuggled together on the bus or in hotels; they were enough to let him hope for the impossible.

He choked back a sob. Of course he’d fall in love with someone who didn’t want to feel the same way.

He was so tired, exhausted, his head spinning and his chest heaving. God, the pain was so bad. For all the money he had, he still had no control over what was happening inside of him.

Finally, his eyelids began to drop, and the rushing sound of the vehicles began to drift away from his consciousness.

* * *

When his eyes began to open again, it was to the sight of a Landrover pulled up beside him. A young woman hopped out of the driver’s seat and hurried over to him. She was saying something, something he couldn’t understand, and he could only lift his head weakly to acknowledge her.

“Mister! Are you alright?” she was calling out to him, in an accented, but perfectly understandable, English.

Harry tried to pull himself up to a seated position and opened his mouth to reassure her, but nothing came out.

For a moment, the woman returned to her car before returning with a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling him towards the Landrover. In the back of his mind, the celebrity in him warned him not to go with the stranger, but it was too cold and wet, and he was exhausted. Who would blame him?

The woman propped him up in her passenger seat, giving him gentle rubs on the shoulder while she held up a water bottle for him to drink from. He accepted pliantly. She looked to be around his age, maybe a couple of years older, and was rather tall, almost approaching his height at just under the six-foot mark. The woman’s eyes were a dark brown, almost blackened by the darkness, with hair that was also a rich, dark mahogany. If he had to guess, he’d say she was from either Southern Europe or Northern Africa.

“How are you feeling?” her accented voice asked softly, jolting him from his internal monologue.

“Better, thank you,” Harry replied, a weak smile still managing to find its way onto his face. “I’m so sorry for all this.”

The woman shook her head kindly.

“No troubles, may I give you lift?”

Harry thought for a moment before fishing out his phone.

“Please,” he confirmed, scrolling for the hotel address. “It’s a way back, but if you wouldn’t mind.”

She nodded, a small smile lighting up her face at the acceptance as well as a look of recognition as she saw the address.

“No problems,” she reassured again. “I know there! You don’t worry.”

As she put the seatbelt across him and walked to sit back in the driver’s side, he couldn’t help but hear Simon’s voice in his head, telling him how stupid he was being, giving away their location and getting into the vehicle of a stranger. Then, it was Louis’ voice, reminding him of their rules. The voice was switching between different versions too, both the old Louis and the cold one; Harry’s heart made a feeble lurch in his chest.

The woman was already are rejoining the road when he realised an important detail.

“Wait,” he began. “I’m sorry, I haven’t asked you your name.”

“Thana,” she provided, making a quick wave with one hand before placing it back on the steering wheel.

“Thana,” he tested, rolling the sounds off his tongue. “I’m Harry.”

Thana gave him a small headshake.

“I know who you are; I did not want to startle you.”

“Oh,” he said awkwardly. “Thanks.”

He supposed it would’ve been more shocking if a twenty-something woman hadn’t known who he was, but this was still refreshing.

Another coughing fit caught him in the throat, battling its way out of his chest with a vengeance. The pain brought teardrops to his eyes, and he forced himself to remember why he hadn’t wanted treatment. He’d seen chemo patients, seen the pain, seen how it wasn’t always worth it in the end. If Harry was dying, he’d do so with dignity.

Thana was shooting him a concerned glance, and he tried to force a smile, but the coughs wouldn’t relent.

“It’s nothing contagious,” he rasped, wheezing through the pain.

Something flashed in her brown eyes, and he had to glance away sheepishly to avoid feeling more uncomfortable.

“Shall I take you to a hospital?” Thana’s driving remained steady, but she sounded slightly distressed. “Are you safe to go back?”

He raised an eyebrow and prompted her to elaborate.

“You were on a roadside, Harry,” Thana’s voice trembled slightly. “Is someone dangerous to you? Hypother-hypo-? Hypothermia too!”

A guilty shiver swept down his spine. The poor woman had only just met him, but he’d already made her so worried. He couldn’t say “don’t worry, I just have cancer.”; there wasn’t anything in the realms of the truth that he could say.

“I’ll be fine, Thana; I just need to be back with the boys.”

Trying to be reassuring while he felt like a vile lier tripped him up. She seemed so worried, and he couldn’t even do anything about it.

Her weak smile was pulled tight across her face, but she didn’t press, and instead focused back on the road. Harry’s eyelids were beginning to grow heavy, a feeling only exacerbated by the blur of the trees along the side. Falling asleep inside a stranger’s car was hardly a sensible thing idea, but his eyes kept fluttering closed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Again, he caught a glimpse of that same figure on the roadside, the familiar plastic smile hitting him like a splash of freezing water, only to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. Once again, the figure was gone, as if merely an illusion from his tiredness.

He sank down deeper into the passenger seat, resting his head against the window. The slumber was going to take him whether he wanted it to or not. If he closed his eyes again, maybe he could pretend that he was still in the van with Louis, that they’d solved it (solved them), and perhaps then the agony in his chest would subside.

Finally, Harry allowed the tiredness to win and surrendered to his dreams.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, they’d arrived back at the hotel and were pulling in by the back entrance. Thana was already blinking tiredly, but she was still able to send him a calm smile.

Reaching for his phone, he pinged Niall a quick message to let him know he’d arrived back, which was immediately answered. The engine had just barely been switched off when the door swung open, and three panicked faces appeared.

“Oh my God, harry!”

Before he even had a chance to find his footing upon leaving the Landrover, he had Niall’s arms clinging to him like he was about to disappear.

“Thank you for finding him, I’m so sorry about this,” Liam was gushing to Thana, who looked weirdly apologetic.

“No, no, this is fine,” she reassured him, shaking her tan hands in protest. “I found him by the road; wrong of me not to!”

Harry tuned out Thana and Liam, and let his eyes wander to where Zayn was stood in the doorway, propping it open. The only way to describe his expression was both annoyed and relieved at the same time.

Liam was almost interrogating Thana, but all Harry wanted to do was get back inside and sleep. He was still so sleepy, and all he wanted was to drift off in Niall’s arms. It didn’t matter that he was still standing upright (barely)… Before he realised it, Niall was bracing him to prevent a nose-dive into the concrete.

“Hey, hey! Easy there,” came the blond’s panicked shout.

Or was it a shout? Even his sense of hearing felt off.

He only gave a grunt.

His near fall appeared to have startled Liam away from his questioning long enough for Thana to be able to step away.

“I should leave now,” she lilted, her happy tone far too light for any of them in that moment. “Harry, I do hope you rest good.”

He managed a weak smile and a grateful handshake.

“Thank you, Thana, I hope you get home safely.”

She gave him a little pat on the shoulder.

“No issue; phone if in need again.”

Brandishing a piece of paper and a pen from her coat pocket, she jotted down a string of numbers and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” he managed.

Before Harry could even comprehend being handed her number, she was back in her Landrover and waving goodbye.

He stared down at the paper in his hand; the gesture was kind. It was unlikely that they’d ever meet again, or that they’d be in need of help in that one specific part of the world again. It was just kind. A sign that even a stranger could care.

It made him smile.

An impatient cough sounded from the doorway, Zayn beginning to look tired of standing there as a glorified doorstop. Swinging into action, Niall and Liam helped him back through the door, not paying any mind to the rain dripping off of him. Gently, they bundled Harry into the lift, still not letting him go. The boys only detached themselves once they were safely back in Harry’s hotel room.

They sat in silence for a minute, Niall and Liam watching as Zayn shoved Harry into the en suite shower and threw his pyjamas through the door. None of them spoke at all while Harry cleaned up.

When Harry exited the bathroom, he was met with three worried young men, all staring him down. Tentatively, he sat down beside Niall and Liam on the bed.

Zayn was the first to break the silence.

“Harry, what the fuck.”

Harry winced; Zayn could be pretty… Blunt.

“I’m sorry?” he tried, avoiding eye contact with all of them.

Liam was sitting with his head in his hands, looking as though Harry’d taken ten years off his life.

“Where the fuck were you? Where’s Louis?” he reprimanded.

Harry groaned.

“Don’t know; left me in a ditch twenty miles away.”

It seemed like none of the boys really knew how to respond to that, not that Harry blamed them. He’d never wanted any of them to have to pick sides in their feud, but Louis had made it damn near impossible for that to be avoided. He felt Niall’s arms wrap back around him, which he timidly accepted. Liam looked distinctly like he was about to be sick, and Zayn’s brain appeared to be short-circuiting. It was horrible. None of Harry’s nightmares had ever taken him this far into a living hell.

“What were you even doing out there?” Liam asked him, still staring Harry down with wide, startled eyes.

“Arguing,” he mumbled. “Got in the van with him when he ran, ‘cause I’m stupid like that; he kicked me out when it got too heated.”

“Harry…” Zayn started, tone sympathetic but not what Harry wanted to hear in that moment.

“No, it’s my fault,” he interjected. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I shouldn’t have taken the bait.”

“Stop right there.” Niall reached a hand up to flick him in the forehead. “None of this is your fault. He’s just being a twat!”

A snort came across the room from Zayn, who was mouthing the word “just” in an almost exasperated fashion. Harry almost laughed, because Zayn was completely right; “just” was a massive understatement. Louis was being more than a twat and, if Harry ever had it in him to hold the man accountable, he’d have been cackling at the premise that Louis was being anything less than cruel.

Another agonising coughing fit took over his throat, sending any positive vibes the room had left out the window. Niall rubbed his back softly, but it did little but give him mild comfort. Harry was just ready for it all to be over, regardless of what that meant for him.

By the time his breathing stabilised again, Liam looked ready to prod him with further questions.

“How did Thana find you? Why didn’t you call anyone when he left you?”

“Fell asleep.” Harry shrugged. “I did try and call, but no one picked up.”

In the four years they’d known each other (four years of suffering each other’s antics), Harry’d never seen Liam look so close to pulling his own hair out. A twinge of guilt passed down his spine; if he’d never fallen in love with the wrong person, they wouldn’t be in such an impossible position.

“You know you shouldn’t just jump in a car with a stranger,” Zayn reminded him tiredly. “You’d be easy to kidnap, wouldn’t y’.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“If it wasn’t for her I’d still be out there. Anyway, she was really nice.”

“Really nice doesn’t mean safe,” Zayn said pointedly. “They all seem nice; don’t you remember Belladonna?”

Harry shivered at the name; how could he ever forget her? A sweet teenage fan from early on in their career, one who’d almost caused them to lose it all with just a single box of chocolates. Who’d almost caused Harry to make them lose it all by passing on that box of chocolates.

“Okay, okay, Zayn, maybe little Miss Poison is taking things a bit far,” Niall piped in, reassuringly rubbing circles into Harry’s arms.

Zayn didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Happened once; who’s to say it won’t happen again?”

Harry shook his head firmly, trying to shake the girl’s innocent image from his mind.

“She wasn’t like Belladonna; I’ll never let something like that happen again. And, even Bella professed her innocence,” he reminded them.

It was true, Belladonna had always claimed to be innocent of the crimes. The poisoned chocolates had thankfully been seized by security before any of them could take a bite, but the girl had still been guilty of giving them to him. He could still remember the horror in her eyes the day they’d seen her again in court, claiming that she had no idea that they’d been laced with anything, and that the chocolates weren’t even hers. Apparently, they’d been given to her by someone else.

Apparently, they were Simon’s.

None of it made sense, it was all crazy, and it’d left a lasting impact on all of them. It’d happened on the same day some photoshopped images of him and Louis were making the rounds on social media. Obviously, they weren’t real, as much as Harry secretly wished otherwise, but they’d had to deal with some rather emotional fans that day.

Between the photoshop, the poisoning and their boss allegedly trying to kill one of them, the whole thing had been a fever-dream.

All three of the other men were also shuddering at the thought of the whole ordeal. No doubt Zayn regretted opening that can of worms.

Niall let out a loud sigh, nestling his head into Harry’s shoulder.

“Glad to have you back, buddy,” he mumbled. “We’re all glad you’re safe.”

“Right,” Liam agreed, reaching across to rub Harry’s knee. “And I promise I’ll clobber Louis for you when he gets back.”

The tentative smile that had been building on Harry’s face cracked.

“I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“Harry,” Zayn’s voice faltered. “Don’t say that.”

“He’s not!” he repeated.

Huh, Harry was blubbering again.

The other boys looked like they wanted to challenge him, but it was clear that none of them knew what to say. After all, Harry had been with Louis when he’d last been seen, and so much of his behaviour had changed that there was no way of predicting whether he would return. Visibly, they were defiant of Harry’s claims, but no one had the evidence to debunk it. Louis may well have been gone for good.

They sat together, the familiar silence taking over with only Harry’s heavy breathing ruining it.

Zayn got off out of the vanity stool he was sat on and came to sit on the open side of Harry, joining Niall in wrapping his arms around him with a deep sigh. Harry sank into it needily.

“All of y’, get in.”

They all looked up after hearing Zayn’s muffled voice.

“Get in the bed.”

Niall and Liam both jumped off the bed and marched round to the other side to strip back the covers, while Zayn somehow managed to lift Harry up into a bridal carry. He’d gotten so thin, the weight loss being one of the only noticeable symptoms of the beast that was killing him. He could only return the pained look in Zayn’s brown eyes, as they both knew that it shouldn’t have been so easy for the smaller man to lift him.

Zayn settled him back down in the middle of the mattress and climbed in behind him, spooning him in like a baby koala. Niall climbed across and wrapped himself around Harry’s front, while Liam laid down behind him. Liam didn’t immediately join the cuddle but eventually rolled over to rest his head against Niall’s back. Harry let out a contented sigh.

“Okay, now what?” came Niall’s restless query. The man was already fidgeting.

A soft chuckle reverberated along the hug pile.

“Now,” Zayn stated, tucking his head snugly into the side of Harry’s neck. “We go the fuck to sleep.”

Obediently, they fell back into the silence. While the others would likely take a little longer to relax into it, Harry didn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

When Harry woke up in the morning, he was immediately met with the sight of Liam and Niall in front of him (Liam having officially joined the cuddle at some point in the night) and the press of a lot more than Zayn’s stomach pressed against his back. He wondered if he should move to avoid any awkwardness or just ignore it.

He chose to ignore it.

He drifted into a light slumber but only gained one extra minute before his lungs realised that he was awake again and ruined the peace. The useless things; they were relentless.

Niall was the first to wriggle out of his spot and rush off to the en suite, leaving a gap between Harry and Liam. Harry used the extra space to slide forward a regrant Zayn his dignity.

As he rolled onto his back (something he technically wasn’t even allowed to do anymore), Harry registered the sound of Liam sitting up next to him. He watched him out the corner of his eye as Liam stretched out his legs with a soft groan. Harry smiled. It’d been a while since they’d piled in together and he’d forgotten how much he liked to just be held sometimes. Since becoming ill, he’d mostly avoided relationships and intimacy, and he realised that he’d desperately missed it.  
But then, that just reminded him of the glaring absence of their fifth figure. He frowned, Louis’ absence somehow felt emptier than it had before.

Pushing the thought from his mind, he turned over and flicked Zayn’s arm as he sat up, smirking as the Bradford boy whined like a tired cat and stretched out in a similar fashion.

They acknowledged each other with a small smile and nod and waited their turns for the bathroom. Or rather, Harry waited his turn, Zayn simply jumped the queue and walked in on Niall, who was thankfully only washing his hands (but who also screamed regardless).

Moments like that would soon be stolen from them when Harry went, so it was hard not to feel a twinge of sadness. Sure, Harry wouldn’t be around to see it, but he hoped that the rest of the band (and his family) would be able to carry on. They were all talented, they could be just fine without him, but he could only hope that they’d want to.

Once they were all ready and dressed, they began the more serious process of making phone calls to try and locate Louis.

* * *

It’d been five hours.

Five hours, and they hadn’t even had a single lead on Louis’ whereabouts.

Harry hadn’t wanted to be pessimistic, but somehow, he already knew; he’d been right. Louis was gone, and he wasn’t going to return. Harry would never again see his bright smile or even his cold glare. The mess between them would never be fixed. Harry would die, and there wouldn’t be those beautiful blue eyes beside him when he did. He’d ruined everything, all by having the audacity to be in love.

With every call that was made, Harry just wanted to annihilate their phones.

“Hello? Yes, this is Liam Payne speaking, you know that.”

Something sounded different in Liam’s voice this time; Harry’s heart leapt.

“Oh… Right. Okay. Shit. Okay.” Liam’s voice had turned shaky. “Okay, yes, I’ll tell them.”

Harry almost knew what Liam was about to say before he even put down the phone.

Liam was staring at him, eyes empty and a face like thunder.

“That was our team, they just got a call from the nearest hospital,” he said, softly. “Louis got into a crash last night… There was nothing they could do for him.”

Niall looked up from his phone and froze.

“What do you mean?” the blond whispered. “Liam, what do you mean?”

Liam diverted his eyes.

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

Harry’s head was spinning. He’d known… He’d known Louis wasn’t coming back. The emptiness he’d felt when he’d awoken that morning had been justified. He’d somehow known, but he’d never guessed that it would’ve been like that. It was wrong, so wrong.

Vaguely, he could hear Liam saying his name, but he didn’t react.

“Don’t touch me,” he whispered, feeling a pair of arms wrap around him, but hypocritically accepting the hug anyway.

Louis… Death shouldn’t have applied to Louis, not when everything about him screamed life. Louis was loud, loud, loud; everything death wasn’t. This wasn’t the order that it was meant to happen. Louis was supposed to go to Harry’s funeral, perhaps shed a tear, and then clutch Eleanor’s hand and walk away into the rest of his life.

Oh god, Eleanor, who was ever going to tell her? His family too; how could anyone even try to tell them?

Harry beckoned to Niall to join the hug, but Niall was still frozen, staring at Zayn, who was also in a similar state but staring out the window.

The whole thing was so surreal.

It was like they’d all forgotten how to breathe.

Suddenly, Zayn seemed to snap out of his trance.

“No, just, no,” he blurted, before storming his way across the room and reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.

In turn, that unfroze Niall, who charged at Zayn and his cigarette faster than Harry’s mind could process any of it.

“No!” Niall’s voice was close to a shout. “Are you crazy?”

Zayn ducked away, holding his cigarette out of Niall’s reach.

“What? Hands off me.”

“You’re gonna kill yourself!” Niall was actually crying now, almost hysterical as he grabbed unsuccessfully at the offending item again.

Zayn was still stoic, if not for the faint wobble in his voice.

“Fine,” he stated.

He turned for the door handle, stopping only when Niall threw himself between him and the door. The two young men stared at each other; Zayn little more than an empty husk and Niall no more than the stream of tears steadily building on his chin.

“We just lost Louis,” he pleaded. “We’re going to lose Harry; we can’t lose you too.”

Zayn took a heavy breath (and for a moment Harry thought Niall had gotten through to him) before pushing past Niall altogether and slamming the door behind him.

“He’ll be back,” Niall asserted, sounding like he was convincing himself more than Harry or Liam.

The three of them that remained fell back into their positions on the bed, rubbing Niall’s back through every sob, wincing when Harry’s next coughing fit only made him cry harder. The pain in Harry’s chest was almost unbearable, both the physical and emotional agony a stampede across his sternum, threatening to crack him in two.

Zayn’s reaction was typical of him, to want to be alone in his pain rather than with a group; Harry didn’t blame him. They all had unique and special bonds with Louis. It just happened that Harry’s went deeper than the other was willing to return.

“Fuck this,” Liam mumbled, choking on an empty laugh. “Let’s cuddle again; that worked last night.”

Harry was one step ahead of him, already rolling backwards and holding out his arms, before remembering the rules about back-sleeping and rolling over.

“Alright,” he heard Niall grumble. “But Payno’s goin’ in the middle. I’m not spending another five hours sandwiched between your penises.”

That forced a surprised laugh out of them, and Harry raised a mock offended eyebrow.

“Oi!” he interjected. “You’ll hurt its feelings.”

They took another moment to chuckle to themselves softly like they were still teens, laughing at dick jokes. Louis would’ve found it funny, hilarious probably.

As they lay there together, not caring that it was mid-afternoon, not caring if they had anywhere to be, the two missing presences were becoming increasingly noticeable to Harry. He would have to trust Niall’s judgement that Zayn would be right back, but with the other being gone forever, Harry would have to trick his mind. If he just pretended that Louis was out for a smoke with Zayn, perhaps he could actually slow the spinning of his thoughts. But, alas, that was going to be impossible.

He ignored it and closed his eyes with a huff.

* * *

The first thing he noticed when he began to stir was the press of a body behind him; Zayn had returned. It was enough to make Harry smile. There he was, exactly where Harry needed him, back where he was safe.

Harry carefully extracted himself from the pile, taking care as he heard Liam stir in his sleep. There they were, all three of his bandmates – remaining bandmates – safe, together. He took a final look at them before turning his back and leaving them all behind.

He took the lift down to the ground floor, wincing as yet another damn coughing fit hit, and wandered through the halls until he reached the back exit. There were still a couple of vans out the back, except for the one Louis had taken.

He tried a handle; it was still unlocked, for some fucking reason. Without even a glance back to the hotel, Harry climbed in and pressed his foot down on the clutch. The engine rumbled to life with a slight twist of the key, and then Harry was off.

He followed the route they’d taken the night before almost in a trance. He was numb, and he kept expecting to hear a familiar voice in the seat next to him, only to be disappointed every time he remembered that that was never going to happen again. What he would give to hear that voice again, even if all Louis would do was shout at him.

It was only by chance that Harry saw the crashed van parked up on the side of the road, shoved up on the bank as if someone hadn’t died in it less than twenty-four hours prior.

Harry bit his lip, lest he attempt to curse the world which had forsaken him, the world which hadn’t had the decency to let him die first.

He drove onward until he reached the roundabout and went back the way he came. Soon enough, he was stood beside the van again, running a hand across the wrecked crumple zone. There was another, smaller car off to the side of it; he didn’t know what had happened to the other driver. Maybe they’d made it out alive while his Louis was lying still. He almost snorted; “his Louis”. Louis had never really been his, had he? Or rather, he had, but he’d never wanted to admit it. Harry could remember the years they’d danced around each other, the months living together, the way they’d always mattered more to each other than anyone either of them had been dating. Harry didn’t doubt that Louis had loved Eleanor, but he’d naively hoped that one day he’d love him more. Perhaps that hope had been what led Harry to kiss him in the first place. Somehow, he’d believed that all they’d needed was a little push, but all it’d done was ruin them. Just one week later they’d found his cancer, and every hope he’d had of fixing them had flushed down the drain.

He choked out a sob; with the cars on this side of the road, Louis would’ve been on his way back when it happened. He’d been right, the last thing Louis had done to him was flip him off; it was rather fitting.

It was already growing dark, and Harry had somehow found himself on the roadside for the second night in a row. The cars rushing past were almost infuriating, travelling past without a care, safely going on their merry little way. Harry almost felt like it was mocking him.

Across the road, the familiar figure again flickered in front of his eyes, disappearing after a car eclipsed it. Harry wanted to laugh through his tears. Of course he’d be haunted by a hallucination of Simon Cowell when he was suffering. Suffering and turning out to be everything Simon hadn’t wanted him to be.

He spluttered through the tears, his lungs finally catching up with him and punishing him for crying. It surely wouldn’t be long now, before he’d find out if there was a heaven. If there was, he’d find Louis and slap him.

Placing a single hand on his heaving chest, he stared out at the vehicles rushing by. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Louis, bloodied and lifeless, laying on a table. He wondered where his body was now, at the hospital morgue or somewhere else? Did he still look like Louis?

As the tears dripped onto the back of the hand on his chest, Harry timed the gaps between the cars.

What he hated most about his sickness was the slowness, the uncertainty. He wanted to go out like a spark, not like a source that had been slowly drained until nothing remained.

He timed the gaps; one, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five.

Harry began to feel light, lighter than he’d felt in months.

One, two, three, four, five.

Maybe Louis would be waiting for him… Wouldn’t that be poetic?

One, two, three, four…

On the count of five, Harry stepped out into the headlights.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone reading is ever in need of mental support, please know that you are not alone. Please don't hesitate to contact a service such as Mind or Samaritans, even if you don't believe it's important enough. Some services even have text services now, and Samaritans have an email address that will get back to you within 24 hours. I've used the emails before (too anxious to use a phone) and I found it really helpful.
> 
> I can't believe this took me nearly 2 months to write! If anyone has an interest in reading the larger fic after this, it will definitely have a much happier ending than this, with it dealing with dreamworlds and temporary character deaths. 
> 
> To anyone who gets this far, thank you very much for reading this :) (stream Defenceless) x


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